


To Soothe the Lonely

by KieraVenic



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Comforting, Dalish, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 00:16:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3748339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KieraVenic/pseuds/KieraVenic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In efforts to lighten the miserable mood fallen upon the party while traveling the Fallowmire, Taryn Lavellan recalls one of her less than popular habits during one of her people’s highest holidays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Soothe the Lonely

“It’s official. I did not think there could be a place more miserable than the Storm Coast… but, well…” With a dramatic sweep of his arm, Varric motioned out to the muddy expanse that was the Fallowmire.

Taryn Lavellan picked a leaf that had smacked into her forehead from her skin. “I don’t know. I rather liked the Storm Coast… at least until we had to camp. The sea was beautiful.”

“You weren’t ready to vomit every time a wave rolled in… Uch. Never going back.”

“Mmm, so does that mean I need to take you off the list of people to bring with when I’m there next?” The teasing lilt of her voice drew an amused snort from the Dwarf. But that was where their mirth ended as they trudged deeper into the mire.

Harding had found a location high enough to be out of the waters and the mud, relatively speaking, but it put them close to the depressingly empty homes. The smell of rot hit her as they stepped amongst the houses and Taryn drew her hand to her nose, face wrinkled with disgust.

Or perhaps not so empty as they had hoped.

Soaked to the bone, they carefully scoured each of the homes. There was no doubt in their minds what they would find, but Taryn held a silent hope. It went unanswered. What supplies they found were left behind. Between the rain and the possibility of plague, they were ruined. It only grew worse as they approached the water.

“We would be wise to heed Scout Harding’s warning.” Rising over the drum of the rain, Solas’ voice came from the back. Questioning glances were answered with the gesture of his staff.

A quick glance to the water made Taryn recoil. “Uch.”

“You can say that again,” Varric muttered.

Countless faces stared up at them, half rotted and swollen. The waterlogged corpses appeared to grin at them; leering, daring them to step closer. Taryn shuddered and moved further from the water. They would need to be extra careful where they placed their feet. She did not want to find out the hard way what disturbing the waters would bring.

There were few things that make her particularly anxious or fearful, but at she had told Harding, the undead or not on her list of favorite monsters. Indeed, they brought a cold fear to her gut.

A crack of lightning sent more than one of them skittering. There was a string of uttered Dwarven swears beside her.

“It’s what I get for thinking we’d hit a new low for scenery.”

In the distance a wolf howled over the pour of the rain. The forlorn sound drew a reluctant smile to Taryn’s face; a sign of life, at last. A devious twist took hold when she noticed Varric squint suspiciously toward the distance. “You’re not superstitious are you?”

Her inquiry was met with a shrug. “Not particularly, but I like to think that a little superstition is healthy. Can’t be too careful with all the crap I’ve seen. …Why are you grinning?”

Instead of speaking, Taryn tipped her head back and let out a long howl. When it tapered off it was only a few seconds before the cry of the wolf returned.

Varric’s expression was flat when she looked back. “Why in Thedas are you _calling_ them?”

“More importantly,” Iron Bull rumbled, “it’s a giveaway of our position.”

The concern was valid. Taryn lifted her hands in a shrug without much heart. “Perhaps, but they already know we’re coming. They’ve seen our progress as we light the beacons and Solas’ magic is rather flashy in the dark.”

Iron Bull appeared appeased, but Varric still looked unhappy. “But, do we really need to call the wolves? Hey! We brought dinner!”

Laughter followed, resounding off the rocky cliffs as they tried to edge their way around the edge of a particularly deep portion of the marsh. “Oh they’re not that bad! I rather like them. Like extra big dogs.”

“Everything is extra big compared to our Archer,” Iron Bull teased in jest.

Worn fingers lovingly stroked the edge of Bianca’s grip. “I resemble that remark.”

Carefully, Taryn navigated a set of slippery rocks, every bit aware of the dead filled waters that lapped at them. “Who knows, maybe we’ll make friends and I’ll bring him home with us. Some of my people still tame wolves to be their companions, like the Emerald Knights of old, though it is rare these days.”

Behind there was a grunt as Varric clambered after her. “Please, no.”

“Why not?” She paused to glance back curiously.

“Between the Outlaws in the Hinterlands and the Blades of Hessarian on the Storm Coast I’ve dealt enough with attack dogs.” A mumble of agreement escaped Iron Bull.

Silence lulled as they focused on trying to get across the natural rocky dam without tumbling into the water. The Qunari made the trek look easy. Iron Bull all but strode over the rocks that the others had to hunch to grip at with their hands to avoid falling. Taryn hopped down, boots squelching in the mud. Her expression wrinkled. She did not want to even stop to think about how Solas was dealing with the mud between his toes.

“We will want to launder our clothes later… Or burn them,” he muttered when his foot slipped down into a particularly muddy patch.

Waiting, she smiled wistfully as the wolf howled once more. The sound brought fond memories with it. In short order Varric had joined her, but he was visibly less enthused. The teasing glint in Taryn’s eyes softened. “Don’t worry. The wolf won’t bother us. I just feel sorry for the poor thing.”

A dubious look was cast her way. “… Sorry?”

Agreement came with a hum that was nearly drowned out under a rumble of thunder. “I do. Hearing a pack howl is another matter, but the lone ones? I suppose I always thought they sounded lonely; calling out to others for companionship.”

Some of Varric’s discomfort visibly eased. “Always possible.”

Safely across the waters, they moved onward. The washed out roads provided little in the way of better travelling conditions. Trudging up the slope to the next beacon, Taryn’s feet slipped, practically coming out from under her, and she hissed Elven swears beneath her breath.

A glance from Solas and Taryn nodded, motioning him forward to light the beacon. The turquoise flames danced in reflections across her blades. The light called the dead in droves and Iron Bull forged ahead to meet them eagerly. The cool slide of Solas’ barrier over her skin and thud of Varric’s bolts brought a strange comfort as she darted forward, knifes flashing. The familiarity was welcomed as the strained cry of a Terror Demon sank into her bones.

_There is nothing to fear. Nothing to fear. Anything can bleed. Anything can die. You’re not alone._

With a bellow, Iron Bull at last sank his axe into the creature’s neck and brought it down. Skin and flesh cracked, crumbling away into wisps of shadow and shards of light as the Demon was forcibly returned to the Fade. With it went the undead. As one the corpses collapsed in ungainly heaps around the beacon’s pillar.

“Another one done,” Varric rumbled cheerfully. “Less dead on the roads now, hopefully.”

“One can hope,” Taryn uttered as she tugged a torch branch from her pack and rolled the end in the Veil Fire. The ghostly flames did not hiss in the rain.

As suspected, the back of the pillar was marked with a plaque that appeared crafted of black marble. Finger tips lightly traced the glimmering rune as unfamiliar emotions danced in her mind. She shuddered as they slipped, oily, from her mind. “Not sure I’ll get used to that.”

Solas offered a faint smile. “It’s an acquired ability. Give it time.”

It was a matter of will, and not water, that cast the torch into darkness as the flames snuffed out; Another thing that had taken some getting used to. Crouched, Taryn carefully rewrapped the torch back in oiled skin to keep it dry in the event they need true fire. Redoing the catches, pointed ears caught the familiar cry as their wolf companion returned. It brought her calm, but she noticed when Varric’s form went rigid.

_You’re not the only one to feel the Demon’s cries. Do something. Relax them. Bring comfort as they brought to you._

Voice deceptively light, Taryn rose to her feet, and started onward. “You know, howling to wolves was something I always did as a child. Drove my Grandmother crazy.”

“Couldn’t imagine why,” Varric snarked, but there was no heat.

With a laugh, Taryn twisted so she was walking backwards along the road. “Quite. Father found it amusing though. Used to teasingly call me ‘Little Cub’ whenever I’d do it. Apparently I used to pretend I was a wolf as a child. Grandmother thought I was touched in the head, I think.”

“Why? Isn’t that normal kid stuff? Kids play pretend all the time. Water.” Varric’s head bobbed towards the approaching marsh.

Green eyes darted over a leather clad shoulder, and Taryn’s course was quickly corrected. “True enough. Grandmother feared that I was Wolf Touched or some such; that I would bring the attention of Fen’harel to the clan with my calls.”

Between Iron Bull and Varric, Solas shook his head, expression twisted into a frown. “Such fears are utter non-sense.” The words were muttered. Immediately, she caught his darted look, tension around his eyes telling that he expected resistance on her part.

Amusement undiminished, Taryn quipped, “Oh I agree.” Surprise flashed across his face and she laughed. “You thought I was going to get feisty, didn’t you?”

“Well, I do recall our last conversation about Dalish belief. I do believe I was quite properly sassed for that one.”

Laughter rumbled from Iron Bull’s chest. “Be careful with that one. The small ones are the most spirited.”

“Spirited… I like that. Remind me to use that the next time my Grandmother calls me difficult. Nana, I’m not difficult, I’m simply spirited. And, Bull, everyone is small to you.”

“In these lands, yes.”

“But, no, you are right Solas. Or, at least so I feel. Grandmother might have something to say about that. I often argued the same to her as a child. She was not very enamored with my feelings on the subject. Why would Fen’harel take offense that I am trying to soothe the loneness from wolves? Or, if it truly was the Dread Wolf calling, why would he take offense that I trying to make _Him_ less lonely? Never made sense to me, but Grandmother was always so insistent.”

“Water, again, Girly. You sure you should be walking backwards?”

“Someone has to watch the rear.”

“Uh huh…”

But she turned again as the road tapered off into a narrow rut and then rotted planks. To get across the falling bridge was a nightmare for Iron Bull. None of the decaying boards wanted hold his weight. A crack cut the air and he fell through with a growl and a splash. Around them the dead rose.

“Charming place,” Solas muttered. “Truly.”

Iron Bull was swiftly helped from the wreckage of the walkway and they turned to face their aggressors.

The tip of Taryn’s danger parted the spine of yet another victim of the plague. “… Wonder what it sounds like to them when I howl… Probably gibberish. Wolves most likely think I’m some canine gone soft in the head.”

“You mean you’re not?” Varric laughed as he put a bolt in the eye of their final harasser. The body sank back into the mire with hardly a sound. Caught in their banter, Taryn gave her phobia hardly a note.

The growl of her voice was dark, but her eyes were bright with teasing light. “Watch it, Dwarf, or I’ll shove you in a muddle puddle.”

Mud splattered everywhere as Iron Bull tromped past. “Do that and we may never get him out again.” Turning, he flashed a challenging grin. “As it is, I’m about to just grab him and carry him. Would be faster.”

Dark eyes narrowed fiercely. “Don’t you dare.”

Iron Bull’s hands rose, fingers curling in mock threat. “Stop me.”

A threatening step forward from the warrior drew Taryn between them with a laugh. Her shoulder bumped against Iron Bull’s ribs, a blow so light when in comparison with their sizes that the man must have hardly felt it, and yet he easily swayed back with her, turning to follow as she continued onward to destination and story.

“ _Anyway_ , it was a constant worry of my Grandmother’s, regardless.”

“… That you’d throw Dwarves into mud puddles?” Varric ragged.

“No! Though…” Thoughtfully, Taryn tipped her head. “She probably would not be surprised to hear it… But I mean my constant howling and other shenanigans attracting Fen’harel’s ire.”

An amused sound from Solas drew a grin on her face, happy to bright some levity to such a dismal trip.

“Every year we celebrate Sa'vunin Atisha Eranen, basically meaning the Day of Peaceful Dreams. It is our highest holiday. In thanks for everything our Ancestors were taught by the Gods, and in hopes that whatever slumber they’re trapped in is a pleasant one, we leave offerings at the feet of their statues. That or idols. Depends on whether or not we’re on the road at the time, if we’re near ruins or shrines… Many of our hahren keep carvings of the pantheon. If there are no proper statues about we make little altars for them and leave the offerings there. Our adults leave offerings while the children weave crowns of flowers and lay them on the brows of the statues.”

Bitterness crept into her expression, her laugh tinged with self-derision. “I don’t know… Maybe I was a crazy child.” The words were muttered more to herself than anyone, but beside her Varric studied Taryn’s face.

“What makes you say that?”

Eyes fluttered as she came out of reverie. Her expression grew more wistful than derisive. “As a little girl I always made an extra crown. When most of the festivities had died down and most weren’t looking, I’d place an extra crown on Fen’harel’s statue. We often had at least one at the edge of the camp, meant to scare off any Spirits that might hurt us.”

“You almost make him sound like a protector.”

Taryn hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose it does sound that way. The stories always said that of all the Gods Fen’harel was the one that answered the People most often. Only problem was, his ‘help’ was often a double edged sword. You might get what you want, but in a way that wasn’t always beneficial. That or you may end up worse off in the end for you request.”

Gray blue eyes slipped Taryn’s way. “Perhaps those that made the requests were being selfish and he sought to teach them lessons.”

Lips twisted in a frown, Taryn’s head briefly shook. “Maybe, but if that’s the case than his lessons were often cruel, going by the stories. Many them were little requests, simple things that would’ve been easier to simply ignore than to bother responding in a way that was hurtful.”

“Perhaps, but it is often the case of stories that they change over time.” The point was valid, and Taryn conceded to the older Elf.

Arms crossed, Varric’s expression was a quizzical one. “My Dalish friend back in Kirkwall, Merrill, seemed to imply that he was the bad one. Certainly sounds like your grandmother feels that way. You were making offerings to the evil god?”

The scoff from Solas went ignored.

Taryn spread her hands with a shrug. “Well, I always felt a bit badly. I mean, here we are, leaving gifts for the other eight, and he’s off by himself, not even faced towards the group. They were only statues and maybe I was just being silly, but I always felt guilty not including him… Like he might be lonely. It has been so long since we’ve had any record of him doing anything against the People.

“I always wondered if perhaps he felt remorse now.” Water droplets scattered from auburn strands as she gave her head a rueful shake. “I think grandmother only tolerated it because I asked her how it could hurt when she’d lectured me. Could it really hurt to make him feel better? You would figure he’d be less likely to come after us if we were nice than if we ignored him to treated him as less than the others.

“Grandmother was less than enamored with my remark that it felt counterproductive that if the primary goal of the clan Keeper was to keep the clan safe from Fen’harel, that they would not make efforts to keep him content.”

With a bark of laughter, Varric smacked his thigh. “Oh I can imagine your grandmother _loved_ that reply.”

“She may or may not have had some choice words about that opinion.” Taryn flashed her friend a grin.

“An opinion that, while unpopular, probably is the most sensible.”

Less sure, Taryn glanced at Solas. “You think?”

Hands spread in a non-committal gesture. “In the ancient texts I have found nothing that seems to indicate that Fen’harel was any more dangerous than the other Gods towards the People. Some of the Pantheon had… less than savory practices it seems.”

The news drew a crinkle of distaste in Taryn’s expression. “I haven’t done it in years though… Too old to make flower crowns. Maybe, next time I go back, I’ll do it for memory’s sake. Who knows… Maybe he finds it amusing. Certainly hasn’t come to strike me down for it, if he’s even noticed.”

Their lupine companion let out a howl that, for the first time that night, was joined by another. Even Varric could not help the smirk that twitched at his lips.

Iron Bull shook his head with a snort. “Well if some vicious Elven God wants to help me put my axe in some barbarians, I’m fine with that.” Savagely he grinned, laughter on his lips before he tossed his head back and joined the wolves in their howls. In a heartbeat, Taryn had joined him.

“Great. Wolves,” Varric groaned, head shaking.

Behind them Solas watched, a strange smile upon his face. “Perhaps he might just help you, at that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive the awkward elven holiday name. I’m no master of Elvish and it was hard to find enough words to string together into something that actually made sense as a holiday and one that would fit the memory I was trying to create for Taryn. Eranen should really be Eraen, but it looked/sounded odd to me, so I cheated and put the extra N in there. *Naughty* D: Forgive me for the sin.
> 
> Sa'vunin (sah-VOO-neen): a single day.
> 
> Atisha (ah-TEE-shah): peace, peaceful.
> 
> Era (EH-rah): story, tale, dream.
> 
> -en (EHN): suffix indicating plural.
> 
> The flower crown portion is a reference to a lovely post on Tumblr by theshadowdreams and some art inspired by it from solas-broke-my-heart. Go pay them visits! Well worth it.


End file.
